D.O.A. – Accepting Life and Death

The majority of this blog was written by my son, Chris Snyder – a musician and animal shelter worker. I’ll lead off with some introductory text from his Instagram posts. After that, you will read the transcript of my interview with him. (The graphic above was created by Chris, using the Midjourney, a generative artificial intelligence program.)

Back in May of 2023 I started working at ACCT, an animal shelter in Philadelphia. On my 3rd day, the person training me asked if I wanted to help lift something heavy. I said "Yes." We went to the office where the supervisor told us there was a D.O.A. on the loading dock. I didn't know what that meant at the time, but the general mood in the room gave me an idea. As it turned out, D.O.A. means "Dead on Arrival".

This song was inspired by the first time I ever had to handle a D.O.A. I literally went home after and wrote this song as therapy to process what just happened. The song is available at these links:

Sample the song free on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/p/C1Yeh48irou/

Spotify link for D.O.A. : https://open.spotify.com/track/5XR0JS55VXp9I3gVLysy7V

I wanna thank @rebeccarovnyviolin again for playing violin and @john_townsend_music for mixing/mastering. They both did an amazing job and I am beyond happy with the results. Go follow Rebecca for awesome, epic violin covers and John for hard rock/metal covers and originals. Both are awesome people as well.

I'm not entirely sure what kinds of posts require trigger warnings, but I guess I'll say that just in case. Last week I made a post where I gave a general rundown of the event that inspired "D.O.A.". Now that it's officially released, I'll go more in depth about exactly what happened.

"Dead on Arrival" 

… an animal showed up dead at the shelter. Me and the co-worker training me grabbed a cart and walked to the side of the building. We were told the body would be wrapped in a black bag (which was kind of a relief to me, knowing I at least wouldn't be seeing the animal itself. Maybe that'd make it easier).

When we got to the loading dock, we stood there for a bit trying to figure out if the black bag we were staring at was indeed the body. My co-worker said she thought she could make out the shape of a head. I looked closer and saw she was right. It was clearly a dog's head, specifically that of a pitbull's.

I tentatively walked up to it with the cart. 2 women were sitting there next to it, one of which said "We're too weak to lift it," in a way that sounded like she was trying to lighten the mood slightly. I very gingerly lifted the body down onto the cart (it was much heavier than I was expecting. Apparently, the term "dead weight" is actually a thing). I found myself supporting the body's weight while simultaneously cradling the head to prevent it from landing in an awkward position and possibly breaking the neck. I then wheeled the cart back inside and into the morgue, which smelled like rot, where I lifted the body again.

My coworker was talking to me for 5 minutes afterward, and I didn't hear a word she said. I went home and wrote "D.O.A." as therapy to process what happened.

My interview with Chris Snyder:

1.      Your song, “D.O.A.” is lengthy – 8:55. Why so long?

I listen to a lot of progressive rock and metal, like Dream Theater, which is known for having longer songs.  That definitely rubbed off on me in my song writing.  I've always loved long songs if they're written well, since it feels more like an adventure.  When the climax hits it's that much more emotional, and when it ends it's that much more satisfying since you took more time to get there.  In progressive music the song length can vary from like 2 minutes to 30 minutes.  That might sound crazy to some people but to me it actually feels more natural.  Kind of like how a lifespan doesn't have a fixed time limit.  It can be really short, really long, or somewhere in between.

2.      Your recounting of the experience was shocking to read. Have you gotten over that initial shock?  

Yeah definitely.  It's been about 9 months since it happened so I've had plenty of time to process it.  Since then I've had to handle many more D.O.A.'s and after a while you kinda get desensitized.  You never totally get over it, there's no escaping what you're doing and what you're seeing, but I guess you start to accept it as normal.  You start to see it more like a thing that happens in life and there's no getting around it.  So it's still sad sometimes but no longer shocking.

3.      What have you learned from that experience?  

On the surface I learned what a dead body feels like, how heavy it can be.  I learned that the term "dead weight" is an actual thing.  I could pick up a living dog the same size as the D.O.A. with ease, but somehow the D.O.A. felt incredibly heavy to lift.  Maybe it has something to do with the fact that it was so limp.  On a more subconscious/visceral level I probably learned about the reality of life and death.  It's one thing to hear about death or to see it, but it's a very different thing to feel it, to carry it.  It kinda forces you to accept it as reality.

4.  They say that when working with the sick, dead, and dying, one has to keep their emotions in check. Have you learned to do that?

I think after doing this kind of thing for a while you naturally start to compartmentalize it.  And it isn't even something I've consciously tried to do, it just kinda happened like that.  A few weeks ago I saw a dead mouse in my apartment and freaked out.  Interesting that a dead mouse in my apartment still affected me, meanwhile I'm handling dead animals at work while barely flinching.  The hardest part is when you have to be there for a euthanasia, sit in on it and watch it happen.  That's still sad for me.  Other people who have been there longer barely seem affected by it though.  Not sure if that was a conscious decision on their part or not, but I'm assuming people sometimes need to figure out ways to protect themselves emotionally so they don't lose their minds.  I do wonder if there should be a balance though.  Like, yeah you definitely need to look out for your emotional well being but you also don't wanna lose your humanity as a result.

Chris Snyder (photo by Collette Snyder)

5. The music is a departure in style for you, based on all your recorded original compositions. Can you comment on that?

At the time when I wrote it I wasn't able to record my guitar, so I was actually kinda stuck with my laptop.  I made use of the VSTs (virtual instruments) in my recording software and wrote most of it that way.  So it kinda happened on accident.  Then later on when I was able to record guitar again, I wrote the guitar parts to go alongside the violin.  I realized I wanted an actual violinist to play on it, so I hired a friend of mine, Rebecca Rovny, who's amazing.  It's definitely the most orchestral song I've ever written, so in that sense it's different compared to my other songs.  That being said, the first instrument I ever learned was keyboard, and I would mainly use the piano and string sounds (violin, cello, etc.) to make music that sounded pretty similar to "D.O.A.".  So I'd say this style has always been in me, but maybe it took this kind of event to bring it out again.

6.  How did you get Rebecca and John to collaborate with you on this? To lend their artistry to something only you were feeling?

I've known Rebecca for a few years now through a Facebook group called Musician of All Trades.  It's run by Youtube violinist Taylor Davis, who's known for her violin covers.  I took Taylor's course called Musician of All Trades, which gives you access to the private Facebook group.  I met John on Instagram through another fellow musician I met in the Musician of All Trades group.  John had mixed and mastered another song of mine called "For My Boy", which is about my last dog.  So I just asked both of them if they'd be interested in working together and they both said "yes" which I was really grateful for.

As far as I know, John and Rebecca never had to handle a D.O.A., so in that sense they may not have been able to fully understand what I was feeling at the time.  But at the same time I'd say the emotion in the song is pretty universal.  It's basically about grief.  Both John and Rebecca are animal lovers, and both have experienced loss.  John had at least one dog pass away, and he's posted in social media about the death of one or two of his family members.  Rebecca said the story behind "D.O.A." hit home for her since she's a dog lover.  She told me she was imagining the events I talked about in the story while recording her parts and was getting emotional while doing it.  So even though they might not have ever handled a D.O.A., they were still able to empathize and understand it enough to convey the right emotion.

7. You’ve adopted a shelter dog since experiencing the D.O.A. Can you tell us about that?

I haven't adopted a dog yet (although I would love to in the future), but me and my sister Collette are fostering one.  So basically we took a dog from ACCT (the shelter I work at), and are keeping her at our place and promoting her on social media so someone can adopt her.  We'd both love to adopt her but there's certain limitations we have that are preventing us from doing that right now.  Her name's Sophia, and she's apparently a pit/boxer mix.  Super sweet and cuddly.  Can be shy/fearful of new people so it might take a little bit for her to warm up to you, but once she does she'll just wanna be around you all the time and cuddle.  She's one of the nicest dogs I've ever lived with and she's very smart.  She's medium energy, not super energetic but not lazy.  She enjoys going for walks, but is also kind of a couch potato and would love to just sit and watch movies with you.

8.  Does Sophia like to hear you play?

At first Sophia was scared of my guitar.  When I took it out the first time she backed away, and when I started playing she ran into the other room with Collette.  But since then she's warmed up to it and every now and then will even look mildly intrigued.  Usually she barely seems to notice though.  Maybe I just haven't found her taste in music yet.

Other social media links: https://linktr.ee/chrissnyderguitar

The Roadside Memorial - Supernaturally Gruesome

“On a dark desert highway…” as the Eagles' song goes. You can picture such an accident in a remote locale, but it actually occurred at a reasonable well-lit city intersection. I wrote this in the summer a few months ago, watching the Atlantic Ocean on a peaceful day, far removed from the grisly accident scene. So far from such pain.

Near the Philadelphia International Airport is the intersection of Lindbergh Boulevard and 84th Street  - a highly trafficked area. When I lived near there, I used to pass through the intersection daily on my way to work. For about a dozen years, there was a large roadside shrine of stuffed animals and the like, indicating a life lost on this roadway, I assumed. The memorial was removed sometime in 2022. 

I had stopped to photograph it a few times, in various seasons, in various years. The stuffed teddy bears and other characters would get water-logged and beaten down by the elements, and I noticed that these would be replaced with fresh ones from time to time. Sometimes, balloons were added. Usually such markers of urban mourning have some sort of document posted in its midst indicating the person whose life was lost. This memorial never had one that I ever saw.

Some years ago I had some of my photographs in a group show with other artists in Philadelphia, and as is customary, the gallery held an opening reception. Artists show up to discuss their work, potential customers show up to see the work and meet the artists. I think I had two photographs in the show, but I don’t remember what they were – although they probably had something to do with death (were I to guess).

My daughter Juli is an abstract painter and has told me that customers are more drawn to the artist’s story, than to the art work itself. She advised me to have a good story. You would think I was a reasonably good storyteller after all these "Cemetery Traveler" blog posts that I’ve done, and books that I’ve written. Maybe so, but I’m not a good on-the-spot salesperson. I prefer to let my work speak for itself. Sometimes that works, sometimes not.

One of the artists in attendance that evening was, however, a very good storyteller. He wasn’t trying to sell me his work, we were just passing the time talking to each other about our work. He told me a story that made my skin crawl.

When he found out that I explored and photographed cemeteries, he offered me this story. Turned out that HE was the person who kept that roadside memorial alive all those years! It has been about eight years since he told me this, so I’m a bit hazy on the details. I will recount it to the best of my recollection.

The storyteller was the uncle of the subject of the memorial. About ten years prior to his retelling of the story, his niece and three other seventeen and eighteen year-olds were going to a graduation party. The niece, lets call her Caitlin, had a younger brother, about four years old. The teens had begged the parents to let them drive to another graduation party and the parents let her take the car. It was raining that night.

As they approached the intersection at Lindbergh Boulevard and 84th Street, someone ran the light at high speed – probably forty or so miles per hour. The teens’ car was broadsided by a truck, I think, and I believe some of the teens survived. The storyteller’s niece did not.

He was asked to identify the body in the morgue at some point. I imagine her parents asked him to do that. He told me that she was cut in half, head to foot, right down the middle. A grisly scene to witness. Can you imagine the horror? 

At some point, maybe the next day, the girl’s younger brother was asking when Caitlin would be coming home. No one knew how to break the news to him. He told his parents he was talking to her in a dream he had the previous night. He was not upset. She told him she was alright. But the thing he was most puzzled about was the vertical line she had coming down her face, all the way down her body ….

So when you die ...

So when you die, will you waft gently to immortal life, or will it be like moving to a new house or apartment? I would assume the latter, and specifically, to an apartment. It takes you a few weeks to get used to the new layout (and months to get used to the new fridge). The door lock keys don’t work properly, of course, but who would you call to report that anyway? Nothing is where you think it should be. It’s like driving an American-made car all your life and then you rent a Subaru – all the same stuff is there, just in slightly wrong places.

I’m sure its disorienting to wake up dead. One moment you’re say, having sex, the next moment you’re dead (this actually happened to someone I know). Are you out of body watching the scene or does everything just go dark? And then, as Woody Allen said, “when you’re dead, it’s hard to find the light switch.”

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When you come to, do you know where you are? Are there signs? Writer Neil Gaiman wrote  (in his book, Coraline): "It is astonishing just how much of what we are can be tied to the beds we wake up in in the morning, and it is astonishing how fragile that can be."

I hope Neil continues writing cool stuff in his afterlife. Its awesome to think that only the dead will benefit from his genius from that time forward. Maybe that would be Heaven for his readers? I used to think that the only difference between Heaven and Hell is the type of music they play. Now, after recently moving from a house to an apartment, I think there may be more to it than that.

Wherever you land, you have no idea who your neighbors are. You say, “Hi. Just moved in.” You shake hands. I wonder if its politically correct to ask, “How long have you lived here?” Does time exist after you die? Is there night and day? Seasons? ATM machines? You can’t just Google this stuff anymore. Where do you get your hair cut now? I'm writing this mainly from a guy's perspective, but I realize the hair issue is much more complex for women. For all of you women out there, where will you get your hair colored, foiled, double-processed, or even just blown out? After life's fitful fever, she many not, actually, sleep so well.

Relative to your prior corporal address, trash collection is on a different day of the week - assuming there is such a thing as trash (and days, for that matter). Do we consume things in the afterlife? And what about grocery stores and a good auto mechanic? It’s always tough to start over with these things in a new locale. One thing is for certain, however - if there is a God, there will be no dentists in the afterlife. To my mind, this is the single greatest advantage to being dead – no more dealing with your teeth.

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But once you get used to your new environs, many things fall into place. Some that do not fall into place are the coins from your pocket when you get into your car. There is no longer a need for money after you die, although you will indeed have a car. In Heaven, you may once again have your long-lost favorite, perhaps that green ’67 Mustang 289 with the rust around the quarter-panels. The rust will still be there, unfortunately. The afterlife is not a miracle-cure, people. In Hell, you’ll drive a Yugo.

Why are all the electrical sockets in your new digs so loose that the plugs just want to fall out? Tough to properly adjust this weird cranky tub faucet to get the right temperature water in the tub – man, you think they would have at least cleaned that after the last people left. And where did they go…? Maybe this is Purgatory, or Limbo? No, wait, the Catholic Church did away with them, right? Was that like a marriage “annulment,” where the Church doesn’t actually cancel something, they just say that it never existed in the first place? I wonder if I can put in a request to have certain people annulled.

So if this is Purgatory, the congested parking situation is only temporary. If I go to through the hassle of acquiring a residential parking permit (good for a year), I might be moved to the next place tomorrow!

And who do you call to order a pizza? HOW do you call? Dying idiot that you are, you forgot to bring the cord to charge your iPhone. Where could you buy a new one? Can’t just go down to the lobby or the gift shop. Or can you? After a couple months, you’re used to your surroundings and it just becomes your normal mode of existence. It’s the opposite of economist Adam Smith’s free market adage, “adapt or die” – here, you just die and adapt. See you there - I'll save you a parking space!

Museum of Mourning Art

While there are a few "Death" museums in the U.S., the one in Drexel Hill's Arlington Cemetery (western Philadelphia suburb) is one of the few that does not cater to sensationalism and grislyness. Officially named "Museum of Mourning Art," this small museum presents a well-executed (pun intended) collection of funereal artifacts mainly from the Victorian Era (mid to late 1800s). This was the period in which funerary art was most popular and widespread in Western cultures. All artforms were affected, from sculpture, painting, and clothing to cemetery architecture, landscaping, and design. Garden cemeteries came into being with their extravagent monumentation and people wore jewely made from hair of the deceased. In other words, we were much more at ease with death than we are now (possibly because it was so much more prevalent and people just had to get used to it!).

At this point, I have no idea how in 2005 I stumbled upon the Museum of Mourning Art--word of mouth, probably. Unless you travel in these circles, how would you know? That's why you need me to dig these things up for you! The museum is located in the town of Drexel Hill, PA., in Arlington Cemetery. I've placed a link to their website at the end of this blog.

The cemetery itself is a rather pleasant suburban one, with no ornamentation or statuary to speak of. The only thing unusual about it is the structure within the grounds that houses the funeral home, offices, and museum--its a replica of Mount Vernon - George Washington's Virginia home. It seems the owners are GW fans! They even have a lock of his hair under glass in the museum!

The museum is devoted to the representation of grief in American and European culture. The docent is happy to show you around, or you can wander among the arifacts yourself (but please call first to make an appointment: 610-259-5800). Earlier I suggested that the proprietors seem to have avoided the shocking and sensational items other death museums revel in, but if you've never seen a life-sized horse-drawn funeral hearse or a cemetery gun, these bona fide historical artifacts can be quite shocking! The museum displays such commonplace Victorian items as original full-color lithographic funeral invitations, an instruction book on how to get into heaven, and the largest collection of funerary jewely I've ever seen! In fact, the first time I went there, the docent had the book for sale that you see here, "Mourning Arts Jewelry" (DeLorme, 2004 Schiffer Art Books). Have a look for a slice of life you may not have known existed here in the U.S. 150 years ago!

Now, I mentioned a "cemetery gun," a device with which you may be unfamiliar. Its purpose was to deter (and destroy) grave robbers! At nightfall when the average law-abiding citizen was not expected to venture onto the grounds, the gun was rigged to a trip wire at the cemetery entrance. A nefarious intruder would theoretically trip the wire by walking into the cemetery, and be shot by the gun. This isn't necessarily Burke and Hare Victorian folklore (notorious Scottish graverobbers/murderers) -- we really did have our own celebrated grave robbing in Philadelphia!

In the 1880s, Washington Square Park (Sixth and Walnut Streets) was a Potter's Field (a burial place for unknown or indigent people). Its quite possible the Quakers who patrolled the graveyard by night to deter tomb raiders may have set up cemetery guns as well. When they could evade the patrols and other deterrents, the body snatchers would dig up fresh cadavers and sell them to the Anatomy Department at Jefferson Medical College down the street (now part of Thomas Jefferson University Hospital, where I work). At the time, this was the only way for medical students to learn the insides of the human body. Though the clandestine practice was common in Western society, it was after all, illegal. Jefferson's involvement was monumental in the advance of medical practice because it spawned the Anatomy Act of 1883. In 1882, Dr. William S. Forbes, chairman of Jefferson's Anatomy Department, was arrested for complicity in the crime of grave robbing. Like the artist Thomas Eakins who risked his career and reputation for principles regarding the importance of anatomy in art education, Forbes, too, suffered public humiliation in achieving his goal of legalizing anatomical dissection in medical education.

The Anatomy Act promoted medical education "by the distribution and use of unclaimed human bodies for scientific purposes through a board created for that purpose and to prevent unauthorized uses and traffic in human bodies." The Pennsylvania law stopped the practice of body snatching and served as a model for other states which adopted similar legislation.

But I digress. Not only will you see one of these automated cemetery rifles at Arlington Cemetery's Museum of Mourning Art, but you'll see mannequins draped in mourning clothes, and a wooden coffin with a face window (so viewers can see if the deceased is breathing by fogging of the glass!). Death symbolism is studied and it was here at the museum I learned that the common cherub representation on modern tombstones evolved from the skull and crossbones! Evidence that the concept of death became socially less terrifying in the Victorian era than it was in prior times. (Click here to read more on the topic of this symbolism at my StoneAngels site.) So be prepared to learn if you go to the Museum of Mourning Art! While it may be shocking at first, you'll more likely be fascinated and leave with a greater appreciation of mortality and how it was viewed by our ancestors!

For more info on the Museum of Mourning Art, please see Arlington Cemetery's site. They even have a Facebook presence!

On the other hand, if Pet Death Taxidermy and Human Execution Devices are more up your alley, then the Museum of Death in Hollywood, CA might be what you seek. Or, if Civil War embalming techniques and Fantasy Coffins interest you, then the site for the National Museum of Funeral History (in Texas) might be worth a visit!

"Exposure" -- A Book about Death and Photography

The first thing to have in a library is a shelf. From time to time this can be decorated with literature. But the shelf is the main thing."— Finley Peter Dunne (1867–1936).

Exposure: A Novel by Kathryn Harrison (2006, Random House) would be a fine addition to any shelf. I knew it was about photography from the jacket notes, but as the death parts creeped up on me, it just made the whole experience that much more interesting! The fact that it was a New York Times Best Seller didn't really enter into my decision to buy it, though it does intrigue me that so many people must have purchased it when it was first published.
I guess its a bit unusual for me to write a book review in my blog. What the hell. I picked up a used copy of Harrison's book at a flea market as light reading for a trip. It is anything but. A superbly crafted fictional suspense novel about a mentally ill woman who is the daughter of a famous photographer. She spends her adult life trying to come to terms with her youthful experience of being her father's only model. Sally Mann portraits come to mind.

The book goes heavily into accurate detail regarding photographic gear and processes, as the author skillfully weaves this information seamlessly into the story. An example being the protagonist's great-grandfather, who made a living photographing (and making daguerrotypes of) dead children. This was a common practice in the 1800s, where parents would pay for a final formal photographic portrait of their dear lost child. The great-grandfather lived in the time of cholera, so there was work aplenty. (There is actually a book called "Sleeping Beauty: Memorial Photography in America," by Stanley Burns (1990, Twelvetrees) that is a marvelous collection of such death photographs--not for the squeamish!) Might a non-photographer reader find the book's photographic details distracting? Possibly. One could simply ignore (or be impressed by) the technical jargon a la Tom Clancy. However, the story so depends on the subject of photography to provide infrastructure that it seems to me that the reader MUST be fluent in the language to fully appreciate the story!

The book was interesting to me on another level. The mental health issues (e.g. cutting, depression) addressed in the book were familiar to me. For most of my adult life, my friendships have gravitated toward people in the mental health professions. This is for the most part a subconscious thing. I would make friends with someone, then later find out the person is a therapist, psych nurse, psychologist, etc. Call it a flaw in my personality.

In summary, "Exposure," by Kathryn Harrison is a highly entertaining read, and never predictable. If you like death and photography, you might enjoy this. Anyway, that's my subjective opinion. And as Walter Cronkite said, everyone's entitled to my opinion.